| Love is something you cannot see
|
| This illusion that no one can believe
|
| It feels so good it makes you cry
|
| True love is a mystery
|
| How can something as real as love can be
|
| Just disappear before your eyes
|
| You know
|
| And I know
|
| Love is just a word that we misuse
|
| Battered truths, blatant lies
|
| As we built ourselves this personal Frankenstein
|
| Nothing but hurt inside
|
| Caught in the riptide
|
| Bruised, crucified
|
| In this broken house where shadows cloak the light
|
| Now that the love has died
|
| Even the ghosts cry
|
| If love was a raging sea
|
| We’d be wrecked on the rocks of tragedy
|
| It picks you up to bring you down
|
| I’m sick of the memories
|
| Recollections and hopeless parodies
|
| It’s better left behind me now
|
| You know
|
| And I know
|
| Passion only cloaks the naked truth
|
| Battered truths, blatant lies
|
| As we built ourselves this personal Frankenstein
|
| Nothing but hurt inside
|
| Caught in the riptide
|
| Bruised, crucified
|
| In this broken house where shadows cloak the light
|
| Now that the love has died
|
| Even the ghosts cry
|
| You know
|
| And I know
|
| Love is just a word that we misuse
|
| You know
|
| It will haunt me now forever
|
| Passion only cloaks the naked truth
|
| Battered truths, blatant lies
|
| As we built ourselves this personal Frankenstein
|
| Nothing but hurt inside
|
| Caught in the riptide
|
| Bruised, crucified
|
| In this broken house where shadows cloak the light
|
| Now that the love has died
|
| Even the ghosts cry
|
| Now that the love has died
|
| Even the ghosts cry |